Saving Matt
by Thesilverlaurel
Summary: Nine bullets riddled Matt's chest that day.


Nine bullets had riddled Matt's chest that day. His lungs and stomach pumped full of lead, and the bonnet of his beautiful car riddled with hole and dents. Blood seeped through faux fur onto the cherry-red Chevelle, red on red, as the Marlboro fell from his lips.

Everyone watching was sure he was dead. Including the crowds that had gathered. Including Takada's bodyguards, with their guns raised and their faces curled into a sneer. Including a certain blonde, miles away, driving a lorry with a Kira-loving news reporter in the back.

Everyone watching, except a seventeen-year-old boy in white pyjamas. He watched as Matt slumped against his beloved Chevelle, and the thin line of cig-smoke faded away, and a 'doctor' arrived on the scene.

"Gevanni," Near spoke into a microphone. The 'doctor' cocked his head, seemingly naturally, a signal to the albino that his microphone-earpiece system was in full working order, of course. "Pronounce him dead, and bring him to HQ."

Gevanni leant close to Matt, 'examining' him, and whispered into a small microphone, "I don't think he's gonna make it, Near."

"Bring him here," Near repeats, his tone becoming short and sharp. "Left on the bonnet of his car, he will die. In a hospital, he will probably die. In the care of myself and the greatest doc-real doctor- I know, he has a chance of survival."

* * *

"Doctor John Smith the tenth?" Rester takes the man's hand and shakes it firmly.

The man is tall, thin, with a sharp, angular face and a slightly hooked nose holding up a pair of square glasses. His blue suit is sharp and tailored, under a long brown trench-coat, with red converse and a red tie. "Actually, just Doctor John Smith will do."

Rester nods, and leads Smith through the halls, after examining the card in the man's black wallet. He chatters on the way, but the Doctor pays limited attention, surveying the halls instead.

In the ward, Smith marches straight up to Matt and leans over him, examining him in the way Gevanni was pretending to. "Multiple bullet wounds…"

"We'd noticed that," Near retorts.

"Punctured his kidneys and intestines."

"That too."

"None hit his heart. Good thing he's only got the one heart."

"Of course he's only got one heart."

"Yes, of course. Now, he's in a state of comatose…"

"We'd also noticed that. Mr Smith, I think you're forgetting that I'm a genius."

"What? No! No, no, no!" Smith's English accent makes his voice seem to drip with sarcasm. Near eyes him angrily, but lets it slide. "I'm not forgetting that your intellect is above that of a human. Speaking of which; don't you have a psychopathically murderous god to kill?"

Near glares, then heads for the door, waving at Rester to follow. "Just help him."

"That's what I do!" Smith announces. "Yes…" he rests a hand on Matt's shoulder, "that's what I do. Save you silly humans."

Matt looks awful. Wires cling to the veins of his arms, tubes jut out of his throat, a mask balancing over his nose and mouth. His skin in pale and dry, his hair falls lifelessly around his blank face, his chest houses a layer of tightly-wrapped bandages.

"We got him yesterday, Matt," Near speaks softly, his hand holding the Game-Boy's, his thumb idly caressing the flaky dry skin. "Kira. The one killed our Mello."

Matt seems to twitch at the name. Near says it a few more times, "Mello, Miheal, Blondie, chocolate, Mello," but to no avail.

Sighing, tears refusing to well up in his grey eyes, Near leans against Matt, and falls asleep.

* * *

"Near…"

Near looks around, trying to pinpoint the voice. He is surrounded by a plain, vast whiteness that seems endless and empty. Near knows he fits right in.

"Near," the voice calls again. It is distant, and sounds desperate. And familiar.

"Near!" the white boy whirls, and stumbles back as his vision is filled by a pair of icy blue orbs.

"Hello, Mello," Near says plainly.

Mello looks almost exactly the same as he did when he took his photograph back. His jacket has been discarded, fully showing the scar down the left of his femininely thin body. His blonde hair is still rough and ragged, his leather is still skin-tight and shiny, his rosary still hangs around his neck.

"Don't you 'hello, Mello' me!" the blond bomb snaps. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Well, currently, I think I'm dreaming."

"Excellent deduction, Einstein!"

"There is no need for the rudeness, Mello."

"There's every fucking need for the rudeness! What the hell do you think you're doing with my Matty?"

"Your Matty?"

"Yes- I mean no- I mean- oh!" Mello growls in frustration, his hands flying to tug at his golden hair. "Why have you got him at the SPK?"

"To help him."

"To help him to what?"

"Live."

Mello groans, gritting his teeth. "He's going to die, Near."

"No he isn't."

"He was shot nine times!"

"So was 50Cent."

"That's not the point. Matt isn't some black man on steroids and auto-tune!"

"I think you're being pessimistic."

"I think you're being ridiculous, and stubborn, and stupid!"

The two boys pause, glaring at each other. Near is the first to get over his pride and break the silence. "How could you possibly know when he's going to die?"

"I just… I just know this shit."

"How?"

"I'm a fucking angel!" Mello bellows. "I know this shit, because I'm a motherfucking angel!"

"I fail to understand this logic."

Mello growls, then his face falls. "Near, Matt's gonna die soon. And you, and your strange Doctor, can't help him. He's going to spend the next three weeks slipping in and out of consciousness, and when he's awake, he'll be in agony. Then in the end, it'll all have been in vain, and he'll have suffered for nothing. I'd rather he died peacefully now than after three weeks of torture. It's better that way. Please, Near… I want my Matty back."

* * *

"Doctor?"

Smith glances over his glasses at the white-pyjamad boy. He offers a small smile, and gives his update; "I'm afraid that it's bad news. The chance of him surviving is in single digits. He's slipping in and out of consciousness, and appears to be in a great amount of agony when awake, which no healthy amount of painkillers will subdue. He'll be lucky to see March; I'd say he has around three weeks."

Near nods, the voice of a certain blonde bomb swimming around in his head.

"The way I see it, there are only two options, but neither are exactly desirable," Smith takes up his trench-coat, "One; you wait, and hope that some miracle saves him, which is unlikely. Two; you switch him off."

"I think…" for once, the ingenious albino is lost for words. "I think I'll let him go."

Smith smiles kindly. "I'm sorry, Near, but humanity just doesn't have the medical knowledge to help him yet. But you always know how to get to me; I'll always be travelling through Time And Relative Dimensions In Space in a little blue box!" And at those odd words, Doctor John Smith the tenth is gone.

Near swallows hard, then clears his throat, and speaks aloud to the comatose Game-Boy. "I killed Kira yesterday. And do you know what I said? "It's all thanks to Mello." And I meant it, I really did. Without him, without his sacrifice, I could never have got the evidence against Light Yagami. But… he died… and that's sad, it truly is. That's why I hoped you'd survive, so that only two Wammy's boys would be lost in the battle against Kira. But then Mello came, and he… he said that you're not gonna survive… and so did the Doctor… I'm sorry, Matt. You won't hate me, will you?"

Near unfolds himself from the chair, and grips the plug tight. "I'm sorry, Matt. Mello was right. It's better this way." And, without the sobs or tears that would be expected, he pulls the plug out, and the room falls deathly silent.

* * *

**A/N**

**I'm sorry, I was trying to think of a name for a Doctor, and the tenth Doctor thing just happened… I used Ten because he did use a real name at times.**

**I'm not bashing 50Cent. Please do not be offended by Mello's comment.**

**I don't own Death Note, Doctor Who or 50Cent.**

**-Laurel Silver**


End file.
